Unlikely Love Triangles
by RenieandtheMoo
Summary: We pick random names out of a box and make them into love triangles.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Yes, I recognise that this is v. weird. What we did was put all the names on the character list in a box and pick out a random three. Frank Longbottom, Remus & Madam Pomfrey was the result. And, jeopardising your sanity, there will be more of these. Have fun reading.**

**Disclaimer: **We don't own Frodo - er - I mean - Harry Potter. (We do own Frodo. We keep him under the bed)

**Remus Lupin, Frank Longbottom and Poppy Pomfrey**

Just for the sake of the story, imagine that Frank is in third year, Remus in fifth and Madam Pomfrey is just Madam Pomfrey.

Frank Longbottom hated Madam Pomfrey with a passion. Aside from the fact that she'd stolen his stuffed bird collection the year before, she was stealing his Remus. _His_ Remus. Regularly – _too_ regularly, Frank thought – Remus Lupin was in the hospital wing – _over night_. It seemed to Frank that there was only one thing that could be happening: Madam Pomfrey and Remus Lupin were _together_ – as in, sleeping together. For, how could you be somewhere with Remus Lupin that often and not eventually succumb to the temptation? And Madam Pomfrey, Frank thought, in a twisted way, was quite good-looking, so… This made Frank very, very angry.

Frank's hatred for Madam Pomfrey was one-sided. _Extremely_ one-sided. Madam Pomfrey's love for Frank Longbottom more than matched Frank's hatred of Madam Pomfrey. She often found herself wishing that Frank was one of those people who was sick all the time – then he could be with her often. Alas, it was not to be: in Frank's two-and-a-half years at Hogwarts, only twice had he had to come to Madam Pomfrey.

So, at the beginning of our story, Madam Pomfrey is sitting in the hospital wing, dreaming of Frank, while Remus sleeps peacefully in a bed nearby. Frank decides, at last, to confront Madam Pomfrey and Remus about their relationship. He storms in to the hospital wing, determined and angry, with speeches all prepared in his head. When the moment comes, however – when he bursts the door open – all he can manage is, "You – you… YOU AND HIM!!"

Madam Pomfrey is puzzled, but in the presence of her love, she can't quite make her mouth form coherent sentences. "I…Frank…" she tries, then finally comes up with a not-quite-normal question. "Come you what for?" She flushes. "I mean, what come you for? – What did you come for?"

Frank is white with rage. "Don't pretend innocence!" he sputters. "You know full well what I'm talking about!"

"I – no – think you…" There's only one thing she can say: "Shhh, don't wake Remus."

"Yeah?!" Frank demands. "And what was he doing all last night that made him so tired? What was he doing with _you_?!"

Remus blearily opens his eyes. "What..?" he mumbles. "Go away – I'm sleeping."

"You SICK, TWISTED BEING!" Frank spits at Madam Pomfrey. "You would – you, with _him_! My sweet little Remykins!"

Remus gives a horrified squeak. "Your _what_?! What did you call me?"

"My sweet little Remykins…" Frank says dreamily. "I love you, Remus." Suddenly his face crinkles up with anger. "BUT YOU'RE WITH MADAM POMFREY!!!"

"Call me Poppy, dear." Madam Pomfrey says sweetly.

Frank runs for the door. He is still running today. That's what sent him mad – it wasn't really Voldie at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Hello world! This is me...anyway, we hope you enjoy our story. Thank you to our reviewing people - Venomous Guise, Jente Bidernais and Laureanna. Review, and we will add your name to this list and give you cookies!!

**Disclaimer: **We don't own Harry Potter (or Frodo anymore - he ran away)

**Ernie Macmillan, Moaning Myrtle and Alphard Black  
**

There was a reason Moaning Myrtle was always moaning. Funnily enough, despite what she told Harry in his second year, it had nothing to do with her death. Myrtle was suffering from unrequited love. In fact, Myrtle had been suffering from unrequited love for the greater part of her life – well, her death.

Moaning Myrtle was in love with Alphard Black. She remembered the very first time she had noticed him – seen how wonderful he was. She'd been sitting in the library with her friend (note the singular – she only had one friend) when Alphard had come in, surrounded by friends. Her first feeling was jealousy. It always seemed unfair to her that some people had so many friends, and that she only had one. But her next thought after this was decidedly un-Myrtle-like. She thought he was quite handsome. _Very_ handsome, in fact. His long black hair shimmered in the sunlight streaming in from the windows, his grey eyes sparkled with mirth as he laughed with his friends.

Myrtle decided, then and there, that Alphard was going to love her. She was going to get him to go out with her if it was the last thing she did. She took to stalking him. Everywhere he went, she followed at a distance. Whenever he wasn't in his common room, the toilets or in class, Myrtle was behind him, watching and admiring his every action. She spent weeks trying to get up the courage to ask him out. Finally, the day before a Hogsmeade trip, she came to him, took a deep breath and asked. He turned her down.

Myrtle was inconsolable. She spent weeks hiding in the toilets, sobbing her heart out. It was in this time of dire need that she would have most appreciated a friend to comfort her. But her only friend, Olive, did the exact opposite. She got sick of Myrtle's constant whining about Alphard, and her habit of disappearing into the toilets for hours at a time. Olive abandoned her.

Myrtle was now contemplating drowning herself in one of the toilets, when her life got even worse. Olive gained some new friends, who ganged up on Myrtle, teasing her about her glasses, and using imaginative insults such as four-eyes. A basilisk was let loose on the school, attacking mud-bloods such as Myrtle. Finally, when she thought life had already sunk into the utmost pit of horrors, Myrtle died.

Myrtle recounted this whole sad story to Ernie Macmillan, who sat perched on the edge of the basin in the second floor girls bathroom. Why was Ernie in a girls bathroom? you may ask. Well, Ernie was also suffering from unrequited love. He, like Myrtle, was in love with someone who was now dead. However, he, unlike Myrtle, could still talk to and ogle the object of his affections – Moaning Myrtle herself. Ernie had crept into the girls bathroom late one night, when he couldn't sleep for think about his Myrtle-poo (as he was wont to call her in his fantasies where they got together, he miraculously brought her back to life, they got married, and then they…well…you get the idea). So Ernie crept out of his dormitory, evaded Mrs. Norris and Mr. Norris (aka Filch) and found Myrtle, as usual, crying in a toilet. Ernie, after what seemed like hours of trying, managed to coax her out of her toilet. Then, to her glee, he listened as she told him her tragic life's (and death's) story.

Ernie tried to look sympathetic. He tried to tell her it was all okay, and that now he was here it would be alright, that he would never reject her like Alphard had done. He tried to tell her that he loved her. But when Ernie opened his mouth to tell Myrtle all this life(and death)-changing information, all that came out has a horrified scream. Ernie fled from the bathroom in tears.

Now, Ernie is sitting, sobbing on the roof of the Astronomy Tower. He looks down to the ground, far below, trying to decide if he would die on impact. Ernie thinks he will. Ernie tenses himself to jump, when suddenly he hears a cry behind him.

"Don't!"

"But why not?" Ernie asks, recognising the voice of his love, his Myrtle, "You love some dead guy who didn't like you, who you'll never see again. You'll never love me, and even if you did, _you're_ dead. Is there anything left living for?"

Myrtle takes it very personally that one of the reasons Ernie is suicidal is because she's dead. She starts wailing. Ernie does the only thing that seems appropriate, given the situation. Ernie kisses her (how he managed to kiss a ghost, we will never know, but it was true love, so I feel it's allowed). She stops wailing, and once they've stopped kissing, looks up at him with love.

"You're better than Alphard. You'd never reject me. Although he did have lovely hair…"

They kiss again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: We're sorry for not updating for ages, we were busy looking for Frodo, and you have no idea how hard it was to get all the people in this in the same time and falling in love. We hope you enjoy it. The next one is Pansy Parkinson, Romilda Vane and Marcus Flint. If you have any ideas for that, please tell us.**

**Disclaimer: We don't own Harry Potter, but we found Frodo again.**

**Justin Finch-Fletchley, Frank Longbottom and Merope Gaunt**

Justin Finch-Fletchley was standing in St. Mungo's with Frank Longbottom and various other insane people he did not know. He also did not know that he and Frank had just travelled back in time about seventy-three years. All in all, he was a rather ignorant and very confused person. Frank wasn't helping.

"I love chickens!" he sung gleefully, dancing around the room. No of the other occupants even noticed this outburst. Being mad, they were rather used to such things. Justin decided he and Frank ought to leave, and try to work out what had happened. He grabbed Frank's hand and they set off down a corridor. They walked for what seemed like hours, through London, out of London, down some jolly lanes with hedges lining them (the sort that are most likely only found in my warped image of England) and at last found themselves outside a friendly looking cottage beside a bubbling brook.

Justin tentatively knocked, as Frank burst into a new song about his love of various types of poultry. "I love ducks! Quacking ducks! They quack like geese only different because geese honk like swans but I love them anyway!"

The door was opened by a remarkably unremarkable young woman. She had lank, dull brown hair and her eyes looked in opposite directions. She was, in fact, rather ugly.

She frowned at Justin, then turned her gaze to his singing companion, "Who are you?" she asked suspiciously, "And can't you make him shut up?"

Justin sighed, "I'm afraid I can't. I'm Justin Finch-Fletchley. Pleasure to meet you."

Justin extended his hand for her to shake. She was too busy watching Frank to noticed. Justin sighed again, rather loudly, in the hope of getting her attention. She turned to face him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, still suspicious.

"Fluffy little gooselets for my dinner!"

"I'm not sure," Justin said truthfully.

"Are you here to see Tom?"

"Tom?" Justin asked, thoroughly confused. It wasn't every day he travelled back in time with a madman to meet the Dark Lord's mother. It was a new and unfamiliar experience for him.

"I'm a turkey! Gobble-gobble-gobble!"

"Well, if you're not here to see Tom, and I don't even know you, how about you just leave?"

It was obviously not a request. The door had just been slammed in his face. Justin decided to sleep in the garden for the night.

The next morning dawned bright and clear. It looked like a pleasant day for an outing to the seaside, and not at all a pleasant day to be stuck in the past with the mother of a future evil overlord. Justin sighed dramatically and, not being very bright, once again knocked on the door of the Riddles' house. This time it was opened by a tall, dark, and incredibly handsome young man. He looked at Justin oddly for a moment then grinned and asked, "Are you the lad my wife sent away last night?"

Justin nodded sheepishly.

"And would that be your friend, sleeping in our marigolds?"

Once again, Justin could only nod in a mute and embarrassed fashion.

"Well," the man told he, smiling even more broadly, "I suppose you'd better come in. We're just about to have breakfast. Would you like some?"

Justin nodded again, wondering at the contrast between this man and his wife. It seemed to him rather odd that such a nice, happy person could end up married to someone like her. He suspected there was love potion involved.

"I'm Tom Riddle, by the way," Justin was told as he entered the cottage, "Who are you?"

"Justin Finch-Fletchey," he answered, looking around the house they had just entered.

The room they were in a rather cosy little kitchen and dining room. There was a jolly, crackling fire in the corner, over which a pot of appetising-looking porridge bubbled gloppily. A large table dominated he centre of the room, at which Mrs. Riddle sat, eating her breakfast. She looked up when Tom shut the door behind him and Justin.

"Look what the cat's dragged in," she drawled, giving Justin a disapproving glare. Her expression changed totally as she turned to her husband, "Tom, dear, do sit down. Have some of this porridge."

Tom took the bowl offered to him and gave it to Justin. He then served himself a bowl from the pot on the fire. This single action would change the course of history. Tom and Justin, however, were oblivious to this fact, and momentarily distracted by the entry of Frank.

"Hello, my little quails!" he greeted them cheerily, then turning his attention to Merope, added, "You're a pretty little duckling, aren't you?" he reached out to ruffle her hair.

Merope froze in shock, her spoon halfway too her mouth, "Wh-wh-what did you say?"

"You're a lovely little duckling!" Frank answered with a manic grin.

Merope was stunned. No-one have ever called her pretty. Even her husband had thought her ugly until she started giving him love potion.

Love potion! Merope suddenly realised that Justin was about to take a mouthful of porridge from the bowl she had served for Tom - the bowl with his love potion in it. Any minute now his love potion from the day before would wear off, and he would realise what she'd done to him. Merope, distracted by these thoughts, forgot to heroically leap up and knock the spoon from Justin's hand.

Justin was gazing at Merope. He could work out why he hadn't noticed it before. She was...beautiful. There was no other word to describe her. He wouldn't even _try_ metaphors. His lame attempts at poetry were far below her perfection. And Frank! How could he?! That...that madman was _flirting_ with his Merope! Justin jumped up from his chair and picked up the nearest weapon he could find – a flaming stick from the fire. He spun and whacked Frank over the head. Frank slumped, lifeless, to the floor.

"What did you do that for?" Merope cried, horrified, and her voice was music to Justion's ears.

"You're mine, Merope," announced Justin, "And I won't have the likes of _him_ going anywhere near you!"

"But he said he loved me! He said I was pretty! Is he all right?"

"Does it really..." Justin was interrupted by Tom, who stood up and pointed furiously at Merope.

"You...you bewitched me! I never loved you! All this time you've been tricking me, you stupid, desperate..._witch_!"

"It's not true Tom!" Merope lied, "I always loved you. You've always loved me. You just needed some...help...to realise it."

"No I didn't," Tom screamed, "I love Cecilia, not you! I never loved you!" Tom stormed out the door and was never seen again.

Merope burst into tears. Justin figured that if he comforted her she might love him. He put his arm around her.

"It's alright, Merope. It's okay," he told her, stroking her hair, "You've still got me."

Finally, Merope dried her eyes. She looked up at Justin and managed to smile, realising he was all she had left.

Years later, in the second war against Voldemort, Justin caught sight of the Dark Lord. Despite the lack of a nose, the snake-like eyes and the fact that he was bald, Justin saw a strange similarity between himself and Voldemort. He had a sudden flash of insight, and realised something more than a little disturbing. "Dear God," he whispered, "I've created a monster."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **We're sorry it's about Frank Longbottom again, but the box has a strange obsession with him.We're sorry it's not about Romilda Vane, Marcus Flint and whoever the other one was, but they were too lame for us. We are extremly grateful to all our reviewers, especially Laureanna, who has it in her favourites. We're sorry we took so long to update but we had to go to Middle Earth to find Frodo again.. We were going to update yesterday, but our keyboard had an incident with a glass of water. Also, if you have an extremely weird love triangle you want to read about, do tell us and we might write it for you one day.

**Disclaimer:** We don't own Harry Potter, Arthur Weasley, Susan Bones or Frank Longbottom. The sick twisted plot is all ours, as is Frodo - nicely tied up so he can't escape. MWAHAHAHA!!

**Arthur Weasley, Susan Bones and Frank Longbottom**

She saw him at the start and at the end of every holiday, without fail. Although she knew he must be at least forty years her senior, there was something about Mr. Weasley's receding, faded red hair, those wire-rimmed glasses, that somehow fascinated Susan.

Susan sat in potions during the last class before her Christmas break. As Snape droned on about whatever potion it was they were learning to make today, she turned to look around the classroom, trying to find something interesting to distract. She caught sight of her friend Thomas' mop of red hair, and her thoughts drifted to someone else with red hair – Arthur Weasley. _If only_,she mused sadly, _If only I were Molly Weasley…_

Susan shook her head to rid herself of these thoughts. She had heard rumours that Snape could read minds, and she didn't want anyone knowing about her unhealthy obsession with Mr. Weasley. Besides, even _she_ knew that the way she felt about him was just plain disturbing.

Susan woke up early the next morning, excitedly anticipating her trip home. Not – like a normal person – because she was homesick, or because she wanted to see her family, but because she knew that today, when she arrived at King's Cross, she would see Arthur Weasley. When the train pulled in to the station, she was the first to leap out, anxiously scanning the platform for a tall, thin figure with red hair. The more she looked, the more worried she became.

He wasn't there.

Susan spent the first week of her holidays sulking in her room, trying to convince herself that she didn't need Arthur Weasley, that she should just forget him and move on, that having acrush on someone thirty-five years or so older than herself was just plain weird. And then, she heard the rumours that he had been bitten by a snake and was staying in St. Mungo's. Susan was mortified. Her Arthur, injured. His life was in danger, and she wasn't even there to help him through this difficult time. _Shame on you_, she berated herself. She had to see him.

When Susan arrived to St. Mungo's, she searched for someone to ask where Arthur Weasley would be found. After receiving directions from the Welcomewitch, she hurried to his room. Upon entering, she was horrified to dicover that Arthur Weasley was nowhere to be seen. _He's avoiding me!_ Susan told herself, in a slightly obsessed, stalker-like fashion. She went to the nearest patient and asked him politely, "Excuse me, have you seen Arthur Wealey?"

"Who, sorry?" the man asked.

"Arthur Weasley. Tall, handsome. He's got the most beautiful red hair, and his eyes…" she trailed off dreamily.

"Ah yes, I know the one. Aren't you a bit young for him?"

Susan blushed, the found herself wondering if the red colour of her face was close to the red of Arthur Weasley's hair. "I'm…his daughter," she improvised, forgetting for a moment how she'd described him.

The man raised an eyebrow. "He went off that way, about twenty minutes ago." He pointed vaguely to his left.

Susan hurriedly followed the man's directions, searching desperately through room after room. Finally, when she had almost given up hope, she suddenly had a thought. _The bathroom. That's where he'll be. The men's bathroom._ She located it and cautiously pushed open the door. She looked around the room, hoping no-one would find her, when her eyes settled on a pair of men in the corner, one tall and red-headed. It was the most disturbing sight she had ever laid eyes upon in all her fifteen years, and she hoped she would never see anything quite so disturbing ever again.

Arthur Weasley in the arms of Frank Longbottom.

They were kissing.


End file.
